Noxius
by Lady Azar de Tameran
Summary: AU. Making a choice is never easy, especially when you must choose between those you love. Ignores HBP.
1. Part One: Choices

_**Noxius**_

**Disclaimer**: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work

**Warnings**: Character death and slight language.

* * *

_**Part One: Choices**_

"Don't do this! Please don't do this! Remus, please!" I beg with him; I plead. I glance around, taking in all around me… the dead, the dying. I turn back to him. "Think about it about, it isn't his fault. All told, he has far less to do with it than even we do. Please, don't do this Remus!"

I begin to surreptitiously look for my wand. Where is it? It should be around here somewhere.

Yet, all the while, I continue to plead to Remus, "Please Remus! We have to get help for the others." While begging, I finally spot my heartwood wand. It is just lying there about 15 meters away, next to a cloaked – and quite dead – Death Eater. Most unfortunately, it is broken, crushed into so many pieces that I know even Ollivander could never put it together again.

I grind my teeth together slightly; now it's on to plan B. I twitch my wrist slightly and feel warm wood touch my skin from within its holster. Good, my secondary wand is still there.

I step slowly toward Remus. "Please, we have to get help." But still Remus does not listen. There is a metal gleam of some nameless emotion in his eyes as he looks, not at me, but at the body lying on the ground a few meters away.

Remus turns to me. "No," he states simply. "No, we don't. Look around the others will be fine. Most are simply unconscious, only _he_…" Remus spits the word out, "…is in danger of dying." He almost looks giddy at the thought. "No less than _he_ deserves," Remus whispers to himself.

It takes me a few minutes, but I finally realize what is burning in his eyes: madness. Madness caused by grief. I knew that Siri's death was causing him great pain – it was painful to us all, but I never realized it was this bad. I should have known.

How did I not know?

"It's _his_ fault, you understand," Remus continues blithely, grief consuming his every word. "_He_ caused it all." His voice was slowly gaining in strength and volume. "If _he_ had only stayed put. If _he_ had only listened to _his_ elders, to _his_ betters." The gleam in his eyes is growing. "If _he_ had just thought it out for a moment. _He_ made this happen!" Remus is now shaking in fury. "_**He** murdered Sirius!_"

"But he didn't," I put in smoothly, trying to calm Remus. "…he didn't kill Siri. He didn't know what was happening. He tried to save Siri. He loves…"

Remus cut me off with a snarl and stomps toward me. "That _bastard_ does not, did not, and never will love Sirius. Not now, not ever. He murdered my brother!" I thought for a moment that Remus would strike me in his rage. "_He deserves to die!_"

I look up at Remus in horror. I know now what I must do. I flick my wrist, causing my wand to fall into my palm from its holster. Within a second of it touching my hand, a spell was already on my lips. "_Stupefy_."

A jet of blood red light hits Remus square in the chest, but, instead of crumbling to the ground in unconsciousness … he grabs my wrist and pries my wand from my trembling fingers. With unnatural speed he snaps my secondary wand and tosses it to the ground before seizing me with both hands. Both of my wrists are now secure in his hands.

"That was not a wise move, _Nymphie_." He growls in my ear, his breath hot on my face. Wolfish eyes stare into mine as he applies pressure to my joints, making me wince.

How is he still standing after that stunner? I put as much power into it as I could.

I glance at the sky for but an instant and mentally curse myself. The moon is almost completely full; I should have remembered. Werewolves are faster, stronger this close to the full moon… so strong, in fact, that a stunner won't even work.

I want to cry but I can't. We have to get out of here, we have to get help. Our friends need us. Harry needs us. I see him just beyond Remus, laying there on the blood soaked earth. He is breathing, and I don't know how badly hurt he is, but I have to get him out of here.

"I know that you are hurting, we all are," I again try to reason with Remus. I try to appeal to the man that I know is in there. "He was your brother, your best friend. But he was my cousin and Harry's godfather. He meant so much to us as well." Harry shudders violently, but Remus doesn't notice.

I glance around secretly, looking for an escape.

"You have to choose," Remus tells me. "You have to choose, _him_ or me."

My eyes widen but I don't say anything. Rather unexpectedly, he gently transfers both of my wrists to his right hand and uses his left to caress my face. The mad metallic gleam dims for a moment.

"Please, Nymph. You know me. You know that I would not do this unless _he_ deserved it."

On the pretense of thinking – or maybe embarrassment – I avoid his eye, but I am really still searching for a way out…

And I have found it. There, just a few meters away, lying next to Nott's body. It's an unbroken wand.

Oblivious Remus continues, "You have to know the way I feel about you, Nymph." He runs the pads of his fingers over my lips.

I look at him. "Don't make me choose, Remus. He is just a boy."

"No, _he's_ not!" Remus retorts angrily. But he looks at me with sudden calmness. "No, _he's_ not. _He's_ a murder who needs to be punished." He again caresses my cheek, his fingers returning to my mouth. "You have to choose."

Harry again shudders as he lies in a growing pool of his own blood.

I know what I have to do.

But I have to tell him before I end it. "I love you, Remus, more than I have ever loved anyone." Remus looks at me with mounting hope, a question written on his face.

I have come to a decision. I close my eyes and nod. I know that Remus has smiled – even though I can't see it. He leans forward and presses his lips to mine, and I squeeze my eyes together even more tightly, letting myself enjoy this for just an instant as I kiss him back.

Why does he have to taste so good? Like nature untamed and wild but gentle and loving at its greatest.

Our kiss ends, and I feel his hands leave me. I hear him turn.

My eyes snap open, now is my opportunity. I eye Nott's wand laying there perfectly on the grass as Remus walks away from me toward Harry. I draw up all of my courage, all of my skill burned into me by Auror training. I have only one shot at this. Even as I am preparing, Harry's life is ebbing away. If I fail, it will be too late.

I inhale sharply and dive toward the wand. Hearing me, Remus turns to look, but I am already there, and the wand is in my hand. His eyes widen in sudden understanding, and he charges at me … but he won't be fast enough – even with his superior speed. I look at him and don't even hesitate…

I say the worst two words in the world… and just a step away I hear a great thud, the sound of a body hitting the ground.

I look down and there he is … the love of my life. And he's dead, a look of pure surprise on his face. I couldn't stun him and trying to knock him out would not have worked due to that cursed pale orb's influence.

I had no choice, but it feels like I could have done something else. I should have done something else.

I sigh but don't even give him another glance as I race to Harry. He is bleeding badly and is near death. But he'll make it. He has to.

"Let's get you out of here, kiddo," I whisper with tears in my eyes.

* * *

_Noxius_: culpable, guilty, responsible, blameworthy

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	2. Part Two: The Aftermath

_**Noxius**_

**Disclaimer**: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work

**Warnings**: Character death and slight language.

* * *

_**Part Two: The Aftermath**_

"Tonks," he prompts me gently, "What happened?"

How exactly am I supposed to answer that?

Let's see … my sort of boyfriend blamed his almost godson for the death of his not quite brother, who was my actual cousin. Then said essentially-my-boyfriend proceeds to try to kill said godson. I, being the only lucid Order member present, am forced to choose between my practically-a-boyfriend and the godson-of-my-cousin (godcousin?), who is actually like a brother to me. To top it all off, the nearly a boyfriend is a werewolf and, as it is near the full moon, can't be stunned…

So I kill him.

I think all of this, but what I actually say is, "I am not really sure." I feel something break inside me as I say this and I wish nothing more than to lie down and sleep forever. Or rather, I wish that I could just lie down and die but I am just too damn angry for that to happen.

_How could you do this to us, Remus?_ How could you do this to Harry and me … and Sirius? _Great Maker, what would Sirius think?_

This thought runs rampant through my brain: What would Sirius think if he knew that I killed … murdered his best friend … his brother in everything?

"Tonks… Tonks… can you hear me?" Words filter in through the haze of my thoughts but I just ignore them.

Sirius would hate me! Sirius does hate me! He has to know, wherever he is now. He has to know that I murdered his brother! Great Maker, what am I going to do? I have to fix this! I have to do something!

"Tonks? I think she's going into shock." The words are still there, in the background.

…But all I can think about is what has just happened. Remus has been consumed by his grief, by his anger and has betrayed us. Harry is lying somewhere in the Hospital Wing and is on death's doorway.

And me… I have saved the day. I have stopped the bad guy… I have stopped the not-so-bad bad guy. I have killed the love of my life. I am a murderer. I have failed everyone.

But no one so much as Sirius, so much as Remus, so much as Harry… who had lost the only father he has ever known and now has lost the one person we in the Order had prayed might fill that now very vacant roll.

Death is beginning to look more and more appealing right now.

"Tonks … Nymphadora… Nymphie, please listen to me," the voice is now begging me.

I hear the warm deep voice, and I try to listen, but I can't. These horrible thoughts keep cascading through my brain. Sirius is dead. Remus is dead. Harry is near death.

_And it is all my fault._

If only I had tried harder with Remus. Maybe I could have reasoned with him. Maybe I could have tried another spell. Maybe I could have saved him.

And Harry…

Sirius wanted me to look after him should anything ever happen. He even said so in his will. He actually transferred the role of godparent to me, not to Remus, but to me. Though he jokingly stated that godsister might be more appropriate than godmother. And I couldn't agree more. I have known him for little more than a year; yet, I am already willing to die for him. Hell, I was willing to commit murder for him. He is my little brother… and _nobody_ is ever going to take him from me. Not even those that I hold dear.

Yet, somehow I have still managed to fail him…

…My thoughts are brought to an unexpected halt as icy water is dumped on my head. My eyes snap open. I look up and am lost in a pool of the darkest color imaginable, so dark that even black is pale in comparison. Yet, these eyes are not hateful but filled with compassion. Kingsley Shaklebolt looks at me as though he fears I will fade away any second, as though I will simply die – just as I wish that I would.

"Tonks," he whispers solemnly. "Tonks, you need to focus on us."

Moody continues where Kingsley left off. "You said that you didn't know what happened…"

The entire scene flashes before my eyes. Harry bleeding, dying. Remus mad with grief. Unholy green light.

"I don't," I respond warily.

Both of Moody's eyes stare at me, but Kingsley speaks, "Well, Remus… is dead, as I am sure you know. He was the only one we lost," he says it gently, trying not to cause me anymore pain. "We tested the wands, Moody and I…" He hesitates, not really knowing how to continue. "It was Nott. His wand registered with a Killing Curse used on a werewolf." Those dark eyes just stare at me.

I nod; I had used a Death Eater wand. Of course, they would think Nott guilty.

"What about Harry?" I ask after a moment.

Kingsley doesn't say anything but glances at Mad-Eye. "Potter is in pretty bad shape. Voldemort and his Death Eaters did a number on him before we arrived, but he managed to take out a fair lot of them." Moody's voice rang with a gruff sort of pride. "Even though the blood wards failed, he still managed to protect the Dursleys…" he spits the name, "and Figg," he adds the last with a much gentler voice. "They are just down the hall."

I exhale and something clicks in my mind. "You said he is in bad shape… how bad?"

Both look uncomfortable. And never before have I ever seen Mad-Eye look nervous.

"Bad," Kingsley finally replies. "He might not make it."

I simply stare at him as the very last vestiges of my world come crashing down. I feel blood trickle down my face from a cut I didn't even know I had. His words echo in my mind.

…And I finally allow myself to cry.

* * *

_Noxius_: culpable, guilty, responsible, blameworthy

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	3. Part Three: Recovery

_**Noxius**_

**Disclaimer**: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work

**Warnings**: Character death and slight language.

* * *

_**Part Three: Recovery**_

"He's going to make it." These simple words resound in my head even hours later. He – my Harry – is going to live. Nothing else in my life, which seems to have recently hit rock bottom, could possibly make me as happy as I am now. The simple fact that the very last of my family – other than my parents – will live is joyous news, but somehow it is still filled with bitterness.

I sit here, on his bed, next to the still unconscious Harry, his hand is grasped in mine. I sit here and stare at his pale face, willing him to wake up. I sit here with my little brother, and all I can really think about is how there should be two more people here with me.

Sirius and Remus should both be here. They should be here when Harry needs them the most. But they aren't. One isn't here due to a blunder, an oversight of Dumbledore's… where he thought it best not to tell anyone anything. The other is dead due to his own … well, I haven't quite figured out a word for it yet. Nonetheless, it is still his own damn fault – and maybe partially mine as well. He was just too consumed by grief, madness, his own guilt that he had to blame someone … anyone … even someone he loved.

But I, of course, am the only one who knows this. Everyone else thinks that Remus was killed during a Death Eater raid on Privet Drive. Everyone else thinks that he died bravely, protecting Harry. Everyone else thinks that Remus Lupin was a fine, upstanding man.

_Well, everyone else is wrong._

Yes, Remus was once a good man. Yes, Remus was kind and responsible and dignified. Yes, Remus was all this and more … once upon a time.

But grief changed all this. Blame changed all this. He blamed Harry for something that was his and Dumbledore's – and hell, even Sirius' fault. He let all the guilt consume him. The guilt that he felt for first betraying Sirius – the whole Azkaban/Secret Keeper fiasco; then, for leaving him to rot in a house filled with nothing but hurt and painful memories; and, finally, for ensuring that Harry knew nothing – and, therefore, had every reason to go to the Department of Mysteries.

Or maybe… he was just jealous. Perhaps he was jealous that Sirius loved Harry more than he loved Remus. I know that Siri loved Harry more than he ever loved me, but you don't see me getting upset about it. Such a thing is only natural, parents are supposed to love their children more than anything else – up to and including their own brothers and sisters.

They, the Order, didn't see Remus in his last moments like I did. They didn't see the madness. They didn't see the grief. They didn't see what he did to my Harry. They didn't see any of it.

I could tell them the truth. I could fix all of their mixed perceptions… but I won't. I can't do that to the good Remus that I once knew. I can't do it to the Remus that was my friend, to the Remus that I loved. _He_ – not the grief-stricken Remus – deserves to be remembered even at the expense of the truth.

I owe Remus this much. I owe him for denying him the chance to ever redeem himself. I owe him for never allowing him to make it up to Harry. I owe him for so very many other things that I will probably spend my next three lifetimes paying him back.

But what I owe Remus doesn't even compare to what he owes me or what he owes Harry. Nothing he could ever do would make it up to us. Nothing could equalize being forced to kill someone you love or having someone you love try to kill you.

So I guess that maybe I don't really owe Remus anything. Maybe it is Harry that I owe. I owe him for not recognizing the signs earlier, for not stopping Remus in any other way. I owe Harry for denying him the chance at normal, the chance he had with Remus…

I turn to look at the young man lying there next to me. He looks so peaceful in his sleep because he has no idea that Remus is dead. He has no idea that Remus has betrayed us. He has no idea that the family he loves so much seems to be constantly shrinking. He has no idea that his other maybe-father is now dead at my hand. He has no idea – or maybe he does – that the one thing he needs most in this world, a family, seems to be the one thing that he will be denied.

I am barely a decade older than he is… but maybe; just maybe I could be what he needs. Maybe I could fill the void that both Sirius and Remus left; I could not be the sister but the parent. _Great Maker help me_… the mum.

But to do that I must first force myself to grow-up, which is an odd thing for an adult to do.

And, yet, as I look at him again I think that I could do it. I could do this. I could and have done both worse and better things for Harry, so why not step-up and take responsibility for him also – well, as much responsibility as any teenager is willing to let you take.

Why couldn't I do this? Nothing is stopping me; nothing is standing in my way …other than Molly Weasley, who wants the roll as well. But she can't have it; I'm taking it.

I've never had children before, and I honestly thought that I probably never would. I always figured that I would be horrible at it. _But if Sirius _– _as not serious as he is _–_ can be a parent then so can I!_

But first, I just have to figure out how.

Days later and I am sitting, brooding, in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place as I have been forced out of Harry's room by one mollycoddling Molly Weasley, who demands that I eat something. Just as I am shooting dark looks at the back of her oh-so red head, a somber Mad-Eye enters followed by an equally solemn Kingsley enter. Both of them approach my chair, hesitating Kingsley places a hand on my shoulder, and I glance up.

His dark eyes just look at me. "He… Harry wants to see you."

I merely nod, dread filling my belly. I haven't talked to him yet, not since… Well, I just haven't talked to him yet. I have sat with him, but that was always while he was asleep. It seems like fate has been conspiring against me in that regard.

I again nod, showing Kingsley that I heard and understand. But I make no movement to get up.

Kingsley squeezes my shoulder. "If you want, we can go with you." It is a statement not a question.

I shake my head and stand. I leave the kitchen and head upstairs to the bedroom where Madam Pomfrey moved Harry when he began to recover. I knock hesitantly on the door before entering. Harry is lying in the middle of the bed and is so pale that I swear he must be pure white. I know he is a teenager, just barely sixteen, but somehow he manages to look very tiny while lying there swathed in blankets. Whatever spells Voldemort and his Death Eaters used before we, the Order, arrived must have been the very worst of the worst.

Not even the _Cruciatus Curse_ makes someone look this bad.

His eyes are open, and he glances at me when I enter. "Wotcher, Tonks." Both of us attempt to smile but it just doesn't work.

"Wotcher, Harry. How do you feel?" I ask him gently, and I watch as my once good as cousin/brother – and now my possible son, if all goes to plan – tries to answer.

"…Better." And it's the truth. I saw him earlier, before Madam Pomfrey did her magic.

I give him a genuine smile then and move to sit down on the bed. For some strange yet very fathomable reason I lay down beside him and loop an arm around his waist. With my still free hand, I begin to stroke his brow.

"I know you are better." I inhale and fight the lump in my throat. "I was so very afraid that you wouldn't make it. I was scared that I'd lose another loved one." I didn't intend to say the last bit, but I still manage to say it. I glance at him and see that the last two words meant more to him than anything else I have ever said.

After several speechless moments, he looks at me, emerald eyes shining with tears. "Thank you, Tonks… for _everything_." He places special emphasis on the word, letting me knew how he feels without actually having to say it. He clears his throat and continues, "Thank you, for saving me as well."

The last part catches me off guard. I can't breath, I can't speak but somehow the words still come. "…Any time." I know, deep in my heart, as I say the words that they are nothing but the truth. One would do anything for those they love, for their children. One would lie, cheat, steal, betray. One would do every horrible thing imaginable to save those they love... _even commit murder_.

* * *

_Noxius_: culpable, guilty, responsible, blameworthy

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	4. Part Four: Secrets

_**Noxius**_

**Disclaimer**: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work

**Warnings**: Character death and slight language.

* * *

_**Part Four: Secrets**_

"She knows something." I hear these words, and I inhale sharply. I twitch the modified Extendable Ear to the side to hear better, praying that the _Notice-Me-Not_ and _Disillusionment_ charms are still working. I have to hear the rest of what they are saying.

"She knows something… and either _will_ _not_ or _cannot_ tell us," someone – Moody by the sound of it – continues gruffly. He sighs as though he is bothered by the whole topic of conversation.

Deep down, I pray that even Moody's mad magical eye will lose just this once and won't see the Extendable Ear.

"But what exactly could she know?" I hear Kingsley ask haltingly, his voice filled with concern and some nameless emotion that I can't quite figure out. I exhale softly at my best friend's words and fight the dread that is rising in my belly. He is only worrying about me… this will not turn into the Spanish Inquisition at a later date.

"And why can't she tell us?" he continues, his unspoken words ringing in my ears. _Why can't she tell me? I am her best friend. I trained her as an Auror. I was her first partner on the job… Why can't she tell me?_ I can almost picture his dark eyes filling with hurt and worry, not for himself… but for me.

"I wish I could tell you, King… but I can't," I whisper to myself as shift my weight and sag against the wall; my head now on the cool stone.

How could I possibly tell him that I killed Remus... that I _murdered_ Remus to save Harry? How could I tell him that I killed a friend? How could I tell him that I killed a man that I adore, who I once thought to be the love of my life?

But I am not sure that he was. I know that I loved him; I know that I still love him – even though he is a bastard for making me kill him. But I am not sure that he was the be-all-and-end-all of my life. Thinking it over, I have decided that I love Harry far more than I ever loved Remus, but in the parent-child sort of way. Come to think of it, I believe that I actually loved Sirius more as well, though as a sister to a brother. I love Remus, but he isn't the love of my life; he couldn't be… a man that would attempt to kill a child – much less for a mistake that was partly his fault in the first place… well, he could never be the greatest love of my life.

I shake my head and end the tangent that my thoughts have taken. I sigh heavily, thinking about how much pain Remus' actions have caused – both directly and indirectly. Once more I focus on the conversation that is happening in the kitchen.

"Do you think that she saw Remus die?" It's Molly speaking now, and I can hear the anxious/sorrowful/molly-coddling tone in her voice that she always uses when talking to my son, my Harry.

I scow slightly at her voice but am touched by her concern, it's nice to know that she thinks enough of me to worry. Yet, I wish that she would stop fretting about this particular topic; I do not need a hell-bent Molly to constantly hound me about Remus. I might let something slip that would best be left unsaid.

Though, come to think of it, I really wish that Molly would just – in general – stop her hounding. She needs to realize that as far as mothering and supporting of one Harry Potter… well, that's my job. She has her own brood to worry over and needs to focus on them, not on the Black/Tonks/Potter family. She needs to be concerned with her own children, not mine. She should worry about things like Percy, who – by the way – could really use a mother right now and who seems to be mostly ignored by said mother. It must suck to be the middle child… er … brother.

"I don't know." It's Moody again, and he sounds angry about something. "But I think that we should watch her closely. Maybe she'll let something slip."

I shake my head at these words and fear fills me as I hear the others murmur in agreement.

This is not good.

I once more sigh, but my head snaps up as I hear a chair move in the kitchen. I think that it's about time for me to leave. I snap my wrist, and the Extendable Ear instantly returns to my hand. I rise to my feet and quickly vacate the area as it would not do for them to know I was listening in.

To borrow a Muggle phrase my Dad loves: _Forewarned is forearmed_…

* * *

_Noxius_: culpable, guilty, responsible, blameworthy

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	5. Part Five: Revelations

_**Noxius**_

**Disclaimer**: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work

**Warnings**: Character death and slight language.

* * *

_**Part Five: Revelations**_

"_Prophecy?_" I ask blankly, staring at my pseudo-son/brother in complete and total confusion. "I thought that it was destroyed?" I gaze at Harry, whom is still recovering from the Dark Lord's most recent attempt on his life.

"Er… well, it was." For some strange reason Harry looks nervous, not that I can really blame him given the circumstances. "But Dumbledore already knew it. He was the one that originally heard it," he continues, steadfastly avoiding my eye. He scoots himself up more firmly against his headboard.

"Well," I ask cautiously, certain that I will most definitely not like the answer. "What did it say?" Belatedly I realize that I have crossed my fingers in the traditional manner usually associated with situations where you pray that something bad is not about to happen.

Please, Great Maker, I beg you … do not make the prophecy say what I think it is about to say. Please, do not make it have anything to do with the Dark Lord being destined to kill, maim, or in any way shape or form harm Harry.

"Er." That's my Harry, so very articulate – just like Sirius. "Well…"

"Out with it already, Potter!" I put on – what Kingsley has labeled as – my 'stern mum' expression and fold my arms across my chest.

"… It says that I have to face Voldemort. It says that I have to kill him," he says this very fast, as though to not hurt me by saying it this way, and it takes me a few minutes to comprehend what I have just been told.

I hear a faint pop and realize that, in my shock, I have reverted to my natural form.

"_Voldemort… and you… what_?" I feel a faint flush of pleasure at being able to actually speak the Dark Lord's name without flinching; this has been one of the things that Harry and I have been working on since he finds the whole You-Know-Who business to be annoying – which, come to think of it, I do now as well.

My sapphire blue eyes stare into his bottle-green ones. "What do you mean that _you have to kill Voldemort_?" I place special emphasizes on the last part of the sentence and lean forward slightly to look at him better.

"The prophecy says that I either have to kill Voldemort or… _he will kill me_." Again he won't look me in the eye, but this time I know it is because he is fighting back tears.

I look at him dazedly and, without even realizing, leave my chair to sit next to him on his bed. I gently loop an arm around his waist and he first stiffens but soon leans into the embrace.

"It's alright, love," I murmur gently, the fingers of my free hand running through his hair.

"No," he mumbles, his face pressing into the space between my shoulder and neck. "No, it's not… _it's not okay_." He sniffles and I know that the tears will come soon. "I either have to be murdered… _or a murderer_," he whispers as he clings to me.

I sigh heavily and have a sick feeling in my stomach. As morbid as his last statement is, if the prophecy is to be trusted, it is nothing but the truth. My heart shudders with the realization that both of our lives have hit an all time low.

I could really use a shot of Firewhiskey right about now. I glance down at Harry, who is still clinging to me like I am his life-line.

Make that … _we_ could use _multiple_ shots of Firewhiskey right now.

This cannot be happening… this cannot possibly be happening. This has to be some sort of sick cosmic-type joke. My son cannot possibly be fated to face Voldemort once again. He can't be destined to either kill the Dark Lord … or be killed. It just can't be.

I shake my head forcefully and squeeze him tighter. This whole past month has just been the worst of my entire life – and Harry's as well. First, Sirius dies. Then, less than three weeks later, Harry's _home _– though I shudder to call it that – is attacked by Death Eaters and he is badly injured. Next, to make things even worse, Remus completely loses it and actually tries to murder Harry, forcing me to kill him instead. Lastly, as if I need more worries, the Order becomes suspicious of me and is all but initiating an Inquisition to find out what I'm on about.

Please, Great Maker, I beg you… please let us get through this. Please, let things get better.

But even as I whisper my prayers, I have this sinking feeling in my belly that it is all about to get much worse…

* * *

_Noxius_: culpable, guilty, responsible, blameworthy

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	6. Part Six: Revelations Redux

_**Noxius**_

**Disclaimer**: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work

**Warnings**: Character death and slight language.

* * *

_**Part Six: Revelations Redux**_

I put my head in my hands, and the diary I am holding falls to the ground. The pages are rumpling, and I realize without much surprise that I just don't give a damn about it.

Why should I care about an object belonging to a dead man – if he is even worthy of such a title? Why should I care about the diary that contains the ramblings of a grief-stricken mad-man?

The answer: _I don't!_

Now that I am thinking about it, I realize that I don't really care about the man that wrote in the diary either. Come to think of it, I am glad that Remus is dead! I am glad that I killed that back-stabbing bastard. If I had the chance I would do it again…

_Without hesitation. _

Without trying to reason with him. Without trying to save him.

I would just use the Killing Curse and go on …because it is no less than what he deserves.

HE KNEW! That bloody monster knew!

He knew that Voldemort would try to lure Harry to the Department of Mysteries – Albus had actually confided in werewolf, thinking that he… _it _was trustworthy. He even knew why… that bloody bleeding bastard knew! And what's more… he knew that Sirius would be the lure to get Harry there. He knew but did he do anything about it.

Did he tell anyone? … No, he didn't.

He didn't even tell anyone… For the sake of the Maker… _he didn't even tell Dumbledore… much less Sirius himself!_

It's all here, in his own handwriting, he knew. He knew that Kreacher had left to go to Narcissa… he knew what that house-elf would tell her about Sirius and Harry.

He knew all these things, but he didn't tell anyone. He didn't think to warn anyone.

But for the life of me, I can't think why.

Why? Why wouldn't he tell us? Why wouldn't he tell Albus, our wise leader? Why wouldn't he tell Sirius, the one he loved above all others?

It just doesn't make any sense.

But it's his handwriting, his diary; I checked it over with every possible Auror trick known to man – or woman. This is, without a doubt, both his diary and his words.

And I guess that just makes my blood boil more. To know that this is most definitely his… to know that he all but betrayed us. He knew things that could have saved Sirius; and, yet, he did nothing.

He even knew the prophecy, though it was Albus that entrusted him with the knowledge, and he still went after Harry. He knew that it was his fault Siri died, and he knew that blasted prophecy, but he still tried to blame and kill Harry!

What, by seven hells, is wrong with this man? Does he possess no ability to think? Or is he really this stupid?

Wait, I should probably not ask myself that question because it is readily apparent that he is most certainly this moronic.

He knew that my loveable, kind, wonderful, sweet, passionate, perfect Harry was completely and totally blameless, and Remus still tried to kill him.

…And to think that I ever loved this man. I must have been deluding myself.

The only emotions that I feel for him now are contempt … and sadness.

How could do this? How could he forsake everything for petty revenge against someone he knew to be innocent? How could he not tell his brother that his life was in danger?

Was it jealousy? Was he jealous that Sirius loved Harry more? Was he jealous that Siri would risk his freedom, his life, his very soul for Harry?

How could he do this? How could he do this to Sirius… to Harry… to me?

How?

I stare at the diary that is lying half open on the floor, and I come to the realization that I never really knew Remus at all. I never loved him either, at least not romantically. I loved the idea of him … the idea of the loyal and loving friend… but that's not Remus… it probably never was.

So why don't I tell them, the Order… why don't I tell them the truth? Why am I still protecting him?

I sigh, bringing my hands to my throat and the necklace encircling it. A gift from Sirius… and I have my answer. I'm doing this for Sirius. I am doing this because my cousin loved Remus – don't ask me why … but he did. I am doing this because even after Remus had believed him to be a murderer and let him rot in Azkaban… Siri still found it in himself to forgive the bastard.

I am doing this for the man that Molly still accuses of being irresponsible and reckless even after his death. While at the same time, she holds Remus to be the pinnacle of light, grace, and all that it good in the world.

I am doing this for the man that the entire Wizarding World fears and despises; while seeing people like Nott the Death Eater as fine, upstanding citizens. I am doing this for the man that Dumbledore refused to trust with his own son's life; while trusting child-abusers and mistreaters like Snape. I am doing this for Siri, who was – and probably never will be – appreciated by anyone save his son and me.

I am doing this because it's what my cousin would have wanted me to do.

* * *

_Noxius_: culpable, guilty, responsible, blameworthy

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	7. Part Seven: Confessions

_**Noxius**_

**Disclaimer**: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work

**Warnings**: Character death and slight language.

* * *

_**Part Seven: Confession**_

They say that confessing your sins can ease your soul, that by confessing your misdeeds you will feel better. They say that the path to forgiveness is started by admitting wrong doing. They say that everything, no matter how heinous, no matter how horrible, can be forgiven.

They say all of this.

But I say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions because when I confessed my sins… well, I only felt worse.

When I confessed what I had done, when I told my best friend that I killed Remus; he looked at me in a mixture of confusion and shock. He hadn't exactly been expecting that answer when he asked what was wrong, when he asked me what I wasn't telling him about Remus' death.

He had waited, rather nicely I might add, until after the Order meeting and led me to our favorite room in the Black Mansion, the library – what else would you expect from two Ravenclaws. He had put up every silencing and privacy charm known to wizarding kind – and even a few he himself had invented – and had then asked me point blank what was going on.

Then I had proceeded to ruin his day and, quite likely, his life.

And he had been rather confused when I told him the truth, like he thought I was lying to him. He was bewildered when I said that I killed Remus.

Or course, his confusion was nowhere near as great as his horror when I told him why I had done it. When I told him how and why I had killed Remus. The coup de grâce was, of course, when I told my best friend the prophecy – after swearing him to secrecy by his wand and his very life – and showed him Remus' diary.

And now he just sits there looking at me with his dark eyes like he can't quite fathom what I have just told him. He just looks lost… like his whole world has rewritten itself in the span of mere seconds. And all it took was one statement, one confession from me to send his life crashing down.

My cousin Sirius must be so very proud of me right now – note my sarcasm when I think this. He must be so proud that I have shown Remus Lupin to be the monster that he is, that I have admitted that I am a murderer, that I have destroyed whatever mental image Kingsley had of both of us.

Sometimes I really hate myself.

"Why?" Kingsley asks his dark eyes full of emotion. "Why would he do such a thing?"

I can only shrug and shake my head because, for the life of me, I have yet to figure it out.

"I don't know… but he did," I say after a few minutes, taking back Remus' diary to flip through it for the hundredth time.

Maybe the answer is in here, maybe the answer is in here, but I just haven't realized. I have read this thing so many times, but I am still no closer to figuring out the werewolf's mind-set than I am to solving the mystery of life.

"I just don't understand," he says it the same way a child would, like he his pleading for someone to explain. "I just don't understand how he could know all these things and still blame Harry. How he could he not tell Sirius that he was in danger? How could he not tell the rest of us? How could he know that blasted prophecy and still try to kill Harry?"

I nod in agreement; I don't understand either. "Maybe he's just crazy," I add in an afterthought. "Maybe all those years of horrible transformations and being alone have rattled his brain."

"Or maybe he felt so guilty that he couldn't live with himself and decided that no one else connected to Sirius… or James… should either," Kingsley comments, regaining his usual poise and wit.

"Maybe," I acquiesce, hoping that this is the reason. Further, hoping that I am not about to be blind-sided yet again by another revelation, I've had enough in the past few weeks to last me a lifetime.

We sit in relative silence for a few minutes, both of us contemplating that which has occurred. But then Kingsley has to ask the question I have been dreading since I made my confession.

"So what are we going to do?" Dark eyes stare into mine like he is trying to see inside my mind.

"I don't know." And I don't.

"Are we going to tell the Order?" he asks quietly, running a hand over his bald head. "Are we going to tell Harry?"

"I don't know." And I feel like crying; it takes me a few minutes to realize that I am.

Kingsley looks at me. "Hey." He wipes my tears away. "Hey, don't worry. It'll be alright. I'm here for you, you know." He winks at me and makes a face; I can't help but laugh. He takes my hand and squeezes it in a comforting gesture, for the first time in what seems like forever, I genuinely smile to someone who is not Harry.

"Whatever you decide," he states, "I'll go along with it. Whatever you want, I am here for you."

I look into his dark eyes and for the first time in a long time, I feel like everything will work out. I feel like, in the end, everything will be okay.

* * *

_Noxius_: culpable, guilty, responsible, blameworthy

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	8. Part Eight: Murderer

_**Noxius**_

**Disclaimer**: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work

**Warnings**: Character death and slight language.

* * *

_**Part Eight: Murderer**_

Murderer…

They don't have to say it, but I know that they all think it.

Murderer…

All of their eyes are watching me, staring at me… wondering if they have gone insane or if it is true.

Murderer…

I just want to cry. I just want to scream at them and say that it wasn't my fault.

Murderer…

They all think that I have joined Voldemort. They all think that I have betrayed them, that I am some sort of spy.

Murderer…

Their eyes scream retribution. Never mind Azkaban, they want to kill me outright. They want to punish me for a crime I didn't commit.

Murderer…

I wish that Harry was here, but at the same time I don't. I wish that he could be here because he loves and would believe. I am glad that he isn't because he should never know that Remus tried to hurt him, he should never have to know that I am a killer.

Murderer…

I really wish Kingsley was here. He understands, he knows the truth. But he is away on a mission for the Ministry right now – of course, something like this would happen when I need him the most.

Murderer…

What can I tell them? The truth? How could I ever tell them that? Would they even believe me?

Murderer…

What am I supposed to say? That I killed Remus to save Harry? That he just went mad, that he knew all these things all along, and he still tried to blame my son.

Murderer…

But it's not me that's a murderer, it's him. I tried to do the right thing, I tried to reason with him, but he just wouldn't listen. I tried to save him.

Murderer…

I just didn't have a choice. I just didn't… I didn't know what to do. I couldn't let Harry die; I just couldn't. He means too much to me. He is only a child, no matter how adult-like he seems. He is still a child, my child, and he needs guidance.

Murderer…

So I had to make a choice, and I haven't regretted it for a moment. Remus knew what he was doing. He knew so much, and, yet, he didn't think to tell any of us. This is all _his_ fault.

Murderer…

But they won't understand. The Order won't understand. These people who are supposed to be my allies and friends won't understand. All they know is that Mad-Eye has evidence that I killed Remus. All they think is that I am a betrayer, that I am using Harry and will turn him over to the Dark Lord. All they think is that I am a spy; I'm related to the Malfoys after all so it's not much of a stretch.

All that they know is that I am a murderer… and for that I deserve to be punished.

But what they don't see, what they don't know, what they don't understand is that living with the knowledge of our real betrayer…

…Well, that's punishment enough.

* * *

_Noxius_: culpable, guilty, responsible, blameworthy

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	9. Part Nine: Disclosure

_**Noxius**_

**Disclaimer**: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work

**Warnings**: Character death and slight language.

* * *

_**Part Nine: Disclosure**_

I told them that I wasn't a spy. I told them that I wasn't a Death Eater. I told them that I killed Remus to save Harry. I told them that Remus went mad, that he knew Sirius was in danger and didn't say anything… that he didn't warn us. I told them about Remus' diary and that he knew the prophecy – though I didn't mention what it said… and that he had endangered us all.

And all Dumbledore said was, "I know."

I sit here now with Kingsley's hand in mine. He squeezes my fingers tightly, rubbing his thumb across them as we, the Order, stare at Albus in horror.

"You knew?" Moody asks incredulously. I have never before seen him look this surprised… not even the time the twins charmed Kreacher into a purple dancing hippogriff. He stares at Dumbledore in shock, both of his eyes are glued to the man. "Bloody hell," he murmurs to himself.

"Yes." And Dumbledore's blue eyes lose their twinkle.

"But how?" Molly asks, looking as though her whole world has been turned upside down.

"How?" Arthur demands, and it is the first time I have ever seen him angry. "_What about **why**?_"

Dumbledore sighs and closes his eyes. "I informed Remus of the prophecy after Sirius' escape from Azkaban and before our discovery of his innocence. I wanted him to know exactly what was at stake." He hesitates before continuing, "As you have no doubt surmised, it deals with Harry, though I will not disclose what it says."

"…Well, what does this have to do with anything?" Bill asks with agitation. Charlie and Poppy Pomfrey nod their heads in agreement.

Albus once more sighs. "I entrusted Remus with this information should anything ever happen to me… I … I wanted him to be leader in my stead should the unthinkable happen." At that moment, Dumbledore looks every bit the hundred and fifty years he was. "… I thought that out of everyone he would be the most trustworthy and the least likely to be suspected with the information. Neither the Ministry nor Voldemort would ever think that a werewolf would have such a position in the Order."

"…But I still don't see what this…" McGonagall starts, adding in her three Knuts worth. Her green eyes are glowing with insuppressible horror.

Moody interrupts, "And how did you not know that he was mad… wait, don't answer that." He shook his head, one grizzled hand rubbing his face. "None of us knew either. How did we miss it? How did _I_ miss it?"

"But how did you find out?" Hestia Jones inquires suddenly from her seat between Sturgis Podmore and Elphias Doge. Across from her, Dedalus Diggle trembles.

Dumbledore shook his head and says one word, as though it would explain it all – and it did, "Fawkes?"

"Fawkes?" I question, finally finding my voice.

"Yes, Fawkes was the one who initially sensed something was wrong. He and the castle brought it to my attention when Remus visited Hogwarts over the last Christmas holiday. They told me that the felt something wrong within him, something twisted and broken."

Mundungus, who had looked shocked before, is doubly so after the mention of a sentient castle.

"But what… what caused this?" I ask in a very small voice, once more Kingsley squeezes my hand.

"I'm not sure," Albus answers, looking lost and uncertain. "But I think it has been a long time coming. I think that it was stress… the stress of losing his only family, of facing so many transformations alone, of finding out that he punished his brother when he was innocent." He exhales, his eyes conspicuously shining with liquid. "It just became too much when Voldemort came back, especially since Remus secretly blamed Harry for that. He felt that Harry brought Tom back, that it was Harry's fault that he had returned. He also blamed Harry for putting Sirius in danger; he felt that without Harry, the Potters would have never been targets, that the entire Secret Keeper fiasco would have been avoided." Albus actually flinches at his own words.

"_But that's not true!_" both Kingsley and Molly shout, several others also voicing their opinions.

"Everyone knows that the Potters were in danger anyway simply because Lily was a Muggleborn Slytherin," Kingsley continues alone. "Add to that the fact that she dare _pollute_," he snorts at the term, "a pure-blooded line like the Potters… well, they might as well have painted targets on themselves."

"They were in danger anyway, without the blasted prophecy – regardless of what it says," Molly states warily through her now evident sobs.

"I know." Albus responds shakily, "But that is how Remus felt."

In the background, I see McGonagall shudder and watch as Flitwick wraps an arm around her. "Why didn't you say anything?" the tiny professor asks as he comforts his wife.

"I couldn't be sure what was happening; there was no way of knowing if he was having some sort of breakdown or if it was something else." Dumbledore exhales slowly. "I had Sirius…" He winces at the name. "…watch over him, see if Remus was behaving oddly. Just before he di… just before the Ministry, he mentioned some odd behavior. We were going to confront Remus after the school term ended."

We all stare at our Head in dawning sympathy and understanding.

Albus inhales softly. "I just didn't think things had gone this far along. I just didn't…" Dumbledore looks as though he would cry at any moment… and he isn't the only one; the entire Order was close to tears. Even Moody was sniffling, valiantly fighting his emotions. Snape, however, was the only one that doesn't look as though he would cry… he doesn't look like much of anything in fact. He'd been dazed by my initial revelation and hasn't responded since.

I envy him for that, I wish that I could just sit here in a catatonic state. But I can't… I have to hear this; I have to know. A single question burns in my mind. A question that I just have to ask.

I squeeze Kingsley's hand before looking at Dumbledore. "What… what are we going to do now?"

* * *

_Noxius_: culpable, guilty, responsible, blameworthy

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	10. Part Ten: Epilogue

_**Noxius**_

**Disclaimer**: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work

**Warnings**: Character death and slight language.

* * *

_**Part 10: Epilogue**_

_**One Year Later…**_

The wind blows my hair, and I squint against the sunlight as I stare at a tombstone, Sirius' tombstone. Sure, he is not buried there – it's not like there is even a body, but it is still a comfort to know that there is this small memorial to the life of a great friend and brother. It is good to know that there is a physical reminder of him in the place.

I glance to the left and see the dual headstones of the Potters. I give a small smile and nod my head in greeting – just in case they are watching in the afterlife. I can only hope that wherever they are, Harry's parents are happy and are with Sirius. But at least they can be buried next to him… well, his headstone.

Remus is buried on their other side, and I still don't quite know what possessed us, the Order, to leave him there after his betrayal. Wait, that isn't true. I know exactly why we left him to rest next to his family. We left him there for the simple reason that they are his family and would have forgiven him anything if he was truly repentant.

Beside me, I hear a small sigh of sadness, and I am torn from my contemplation. I feel a hand squeeze mine. My eyes flicker to the man next to me… the man who brightens my days, who comforts me at night, who possesses my heart, the man who is like a father to Harry, the man whom I love… the man who is my lover, lifemate, and husband.

Kingsley notices my glance and smiles.

I can't help but smile back as he wraps an arm around my waist. I lay my head on his shoulder as I watch our son, Harry, kneel in front of his other parents' tombstone. His fingers trace their names, their birthdates, their death date, and he whispers something, but it is far too soft for me to hear. He looks as though he will cry at any moment, tears clinging to his eyelashes. But then he does something that surprises me… he smiles.

"Thank you," he whispers to his parents' headstone at a more audible volume. He adds something to that statement which suspiciously sounds like, "I love you."

I exhale a breath that I wasn't even been aware I had been holding. So much has changed over the past year and yet, so much is still the same.

Last year Harry never would have said that word… love. He would never say it, to anyone, not even Sirius. But after Sirius and Remus died, after I came to see him as my son, and he grew to see me as a mother… well, only then did he begin to say it. Only after he started dating Luna, only after Ron nearly died in a Death Eater attack at Christmas… only then did Harry start to tell us how he felt. I think he was afraid that if he didn't say it, then we would never know how he felt about us. He was afraid that we would die and never truly know that he loved us.

But this is not all that is different. Harry now has a family, a real family; it is official. Kingsley and I legally adopted Harry on February 14th, Sirius birthday and our wedding day. Harry has a girlfriend – one that strangely enough, King and I approve of. I can tell that they are truly in love; one has only to look at them to know that it is the forever kind of love.

And yet all the changes are tempered with things that remain the same. The war still rages on. We have had great victories and terrible losses, like the loss of Minerva McGonagall last Christmas.

Albus is still head of the Order – a less cloak and dagger and more member friendly Order – with Moody now as his second and Sybil Trelawney as his heir apparent of head of both the Order and the school, as she is the new Deputy Headmistress.

Snape is still a Potions Master but is no longer a spy for us as Voldemort discovered the deception shortly before Yule. Though he is still there in all his snarky glory, he has become … well, maybe pleasant isn't the word but he is less … Snape-like. He still possesses his wit and cunning, but he is tempered with compassion now. Remus' madness and subsequent treachery has had quite an effect on him; though many – me included – are not really sure why. Further, he is tempered by Minerva's death, which devastated him especially as he saw her as a pseudo-mother and since the Death Eater attack was meant to be an assassination attempt on him. Many of the Order thought him to be suicidal, but he is coping now. I think he has found comfort in trying – and succeeding – in saving the children of Death Eaters' from their parents' calling. Draco Malfoy has been his biggest success to date.

Molly Weasley is still motherly, though she now sees Harry as my son and more like her nephew. She is ecstatic over my marriage to Kingsley and is constantly asking when we will have more children. Unbeknownst to her, it will be in about six month's time. Harry is quite excited about his little sister.

Moody is still as crotchety as before, but his engagement to Poppy Pomfrey has at least made him happier. He has started a training program for members of the Order – and those that are still considered to be too young to be in the Order – to work on our offensive and defensive skills. I don't think that I have ever seen him this content before.

Harry still leads the DA, though he has expanded it into two groups – one for the original members and an expanded group for all his new students. He is also now receiving additional training, outside what Moody is providing. Kingsley and I want our son to be prepared.

He was good – really good – before he started training, now he is excellent and will soon be all but unbeatable. All he needed was a little encouragement and some one-on-one education. That was it, the rest is all him. Though I pray he will never have to use these skills, I know that my hopes are in vain. My son will one day have to face Voldemort again, the Dark Lord will see to it.

But soon Voldemort will be nothing but a dark dream… a nightmare to frighten naughty children into behaving. His followers will be defeated by the Aurors, by the Order, and by a wizarding world that will no longer stand for their antics. And he, the Dark Lord himself, won't be defeated by just Harry; no, that won't happen because Kingsley and I will be right there with him. We will help our son; the prophecy be damned.

We will not leave him to face destiny alone. We will help him because he is our friend, our family, our son.

I will help him because he showed me the truth. He showed me that Remus was not my fault, just as Sirius was not his. We were just making the best of a bad situation.

I will help Harry, not because I feel guilty or because he is my redemption, but because he is Remus', and I owe the man that much as I denied him the chance to achieve it himself.

I am shaken from my reverie as my son moves to stand in front of me and gives me one of his ever increasing amount of spontaneous hugs. He smiles at me as Kingsley lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

"Ready?" Kingsley asks and Harry nods. We turn to leave.

But before we go I move to Remus' grave and kiss my hand. I then transfer my kiss to the headstone as I kneel. "I forgive you," I whisper and trace his name with my fingers. "I just hope you can forgive yourself."

I rise and quickly follow my husband and son to the exit, my earlier thoughts returning.

I can sum up this past year in two words: guilt…

…and redemption.

* * *

_Noxius_: culpable, guilty, responsible, blameworthy

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


End file.
